


A Tell-Tale Heart

by ImpossibleClair



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: 2x13, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, beronica, except betty makes good choices instead of dumb ones, i love the girl but she done fucked up, luckily veronica has, picks up from betty being sick at school, the coopers cover up a murder, why does nobody in this show just call the police, you'd think they'd have learnt by now but no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 19:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16373297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpossibleClair/pseuds/ImpossibleClair
Summary: A snippet of Riverdale 2x13, if Betty had made better choices (with added Beronica)





	A Tell-Tale Heart

“I’ve gotta go,” Betty muttered.

She felt her friend’s eyes follow her as she bolted from the student lounge, swinging into the hallway and sprinting for the bathroom. She slowed for a moment as she entered, thinking for just a second that maybe she was going to be fine. Then bile rose in her throat and she dove for a stall, fumbling past the door and throwing herself down on the tiles. The world vanished in a swirl of nausea and ceramic echoes. It seemed an age before any sound broke through to her, and when it did, Betty couldn’t decide if it was welcome or despised. 

“Oh, my god, Betty!”

Veronica’s footsteps broke into a scurry, and then she was at Betty’s side. A gentle hand swept back the blonde ponytail, which had crept forward over her shaking shoulder, and ran over her back.

“Take a breath, Betty.”

Betty choked on a sob. Her head pounded. She pulled away from the toilet bowl, intending to lean against the wall, and instead found her head resting on something far softer. Veronica’s hair brushed against her face, tickling her nose.

“It’s okay, baby,” Veronica whispered. “It’s okay. Take deep breaths.”

Betty melted into her. The memories of blood and death, the guilt, the sickening pit in her stomach all dulled, just for a few moments, as Veronica held her. Breathing in the expensive perfume only made her feel sicker, but she couldn’t summon the strength to pull away. Even if she could, she wouldn’t want to. 

When her breathing had steadied, and the tremors had drained from everywhere but her hands, Betty sat up. 

“Easy,” Veronica warned, keeping an arm around her. 

“I’m okay,” Betty muttered. “Veronica, I have to tell you something.”

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” Veronica asked, but her joking smile faded at the look in Betty’s eyes. “This is serious?”

Betty nodded.

“Okay, well, let’s go somewhere more private. I have a free period; we could go back to your place and-”

“No,” Betty said. “No, not my place.”

Veronica blinked, but didn’t question her.

“The Pembrooke then?” she suggested, and Betty nodded. 

“Okay. I’ll drive.”

*

Her parents weren’t home, but Veronica was in the habit of locking her bedroom door anyway. The last thing Betty needed right now was to deal with the politics of Hiram and Hermione Lodge. 

She was sitting on Veronica’s bed, a blanket over her shoulders and a cup of ginger tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t asked for either comfort, but Veronica had insisted. She sipped at the tea. It left a sharpness at the back of her throat, but it soothed her stomach, so she persisted with it.

“Alright. It’s just us.” Veronica sat opposite her girlfriend. “What’s going on?”

Betty took a deep breath to steady herself. She could already feel tears behind her eyes. The last thing she wanted was to drag Veronica into this mess, but if she didn’t, her guilt would eat her alive. 

“Someone came to our house last night, while I was here with you,” she started. “He was looking for Chic. I don’t know who he was but apparently, he threatened Chic, and mom, and…”

Her throat closed up. Her vision tunnelled. Half of her instincts were screaming for her to _shut the fuck up_ ; the other half were sobbing for release.

Veronica lay her hands over Betty’s. 

“It’s okay, Betts,” she said calmly. “You’re safe. Just tell me what happened.”

“When I got home… there was this body on the floor in the living room. Mom was cleaning up the blood. Chic was just watching.” She looked Veronica in the eye. “He’d done it. Chic killed this guy, and it was self-defence but- but he was dead!”

She shook her head, heavily. 

“Mom told me to just go up to my room and forget it, so… so I did. And it was all gone in the morning and they were eating breakfast and acting like it never happened. But I can’t get it out of my head, Ronnie, there was so much blood…”

Her tears finally silenced her. She cried, quietly, head bowed with the force of her sobs. She tried to look at Veronica, but who was she kidding, she could barely bring herself to breathe. She sat there, feeling hot and cold and guilty and judged and the voice in the back of her mind said _‘You deserve this. You deserve this for what you’ve done.’_

Eventually, Veronica spoke. 

“This isn’t your fault, Betty.”

Betty looked up. Her eyes were red and shadowed.

“This isn’t your fault,” Veronica repeated. “You didn’t have anything to do with it. It just happened.”

“But I didn’t call the police,” Betty said. “I didn’t do anything! I should have done something!”

“We can do something now.” 

Veronica was calm, collected. It was a particular skill of hers; in the face of unmentionable adversity, she kept her head. Only her eyes betrayed the shock she felt inside. She reached over, to where Betty had left her phone, and held it out to her. 

“Call Sheriff Keller,” she said. “Tell him everything.”

Betty looked horrified, desperate, afraid. It made her seem much younger than she was. Her eyes, so full, begged for an easy escape.

“If I tell Sheriff Keller, mum and Chic will go to jail,” she said. “They only just started being happy again.”

“Betty, a man is dead.” 

Veronica didn’t like to be harsh (not with Betty) but she knew when to put her foot down. 

“We need to learn from the Jason Blossom debacle and not get ourselves any deeper into this than we already are. The truth comes out, Betty, we both know that. Sooner or later, your mom and Chic will face consequences. And sooner is better.”

She proffered the phone. 

Betty felt ill again. There was no winning this time. Both of her options were bad. Either she kept the secret, and lived with the guilt and the eventual consequences, or she snitched, and put her family in hot water while she got a chance at redemption and the ability to sleep at night. 

She took the phone, and dialled the Sheriff. 

*

The hours that followed were a blur. The call, the statement, the arrests, the questions. The time at the police station turned into long, dark smears in her memory, peppered with slashes of painful emotion. 

The images of her family were burned into her mind. Her father, stony and shouting; Chic, glaring, cold as ice; her mother, screaming and raging at her as they dragged her in for questioning. She had clung to Veronica through the verbal onslaught, until Fred Andrews intervened and quietly shepherded the girls outside. 

Betty couldn’t even remember all the questions she’d been asked, but eventually, Sheriff Keller said she was free to go. She wasn’t likely to be charged, but if anything changed, he’d get in touch. 

Hal Cooper, too, was turned loose. He hadn’t been home, and didn’t know anything about the murder. He stormed off, apparently forgetting he had a daughter who was now in his sole custody. 

“Can Betty stay with us, mom?” Veronica had asked, as Hal slammed the door of his car and drove off.

“Of course,” Hermione Lodge had replied. 

So Betty found herself in Veronica’s bed, some time in the early hours of the morning, the curtains pulled tight against the threatening daylight. 

Betty had made her choice, and some part of her regretted it. But her shoulders were free of the weight now, and there were no longer eggshells beneath her feet. Her head still throbbed with the befuddled remnants of emotion and logic, but she was too tired to care. She would face them tomorrow.

The air was cold, but Veronica was warm, and she held Betty close in those broken hours before the dawn. 


End file.
